Ernie-Rose Wayer

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Mar, 2023

Stories (4)

4 Stories

84 karma pts

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“A Life For A Life.” by Ernie-Rose Wayer

Submitted to Contest #252

Getting drenched in that thunderstorm should’ve killed the baby. This thought twirled and pirouetted in Clarissa’s mind the entire day; while she starved even when her mum had sent a casserole, as she folded dirty laundry back into the laundry basket, on her creaking veranda with the evening chill as company. Clarissa had stood in the middle of apocalyptic rain the day before. The ancient gods must have taken the act as a plea, her little sacrificial prayer. She wanted to end her baby’s life; she never wanted to carry its life. But alas, a...

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“An Unknown Barricade” by Ernie-Rose Wayer

Submitted to Contest #196

My alleyway is empty tonight.Yes, I know. Mom practically pulled my ears out my head last night, warning me not to take this path back home, but Huntley and I both know she couldn't care less.Right. Huntley.She hasn't been home for a week now, and Mom has started to visibly quake with worry. I called her a couple times, and was utterly unsurprised she didn't pick. I always wonder why she has a phone if she's never going to ever answer it.My feet crunch as I step gingerly onto overflowing trash from abandoned bins. A half eaten sandwich in a ...

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“Pushover” by Ernie-Rose Wayer

Submitted to Contest #191

Family is undoubtedly the most cursed gift known to mankind. You believe this because you've constantly reminded yourself of it. Since you were a wee little child of nine, you came to believe that while the word was highly praised and revered in your society, it meant nothing but the most foolish and detrimental of bonds.You are sitting by your bedside table, your open window providing a view of cherry blossom trees, your Montblanc pen poised in your left hand. Your palms are sweaty and dripping all over your journal, but that doesn't bother...

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“Pandemonium” by Ernie-Rose Wayer

Submitted to Contest #189

*** It was so terribly cold. Snow was falling, and it was almost dark. And the farther I got from the edge of the ravine, the drier the blood on my palms became. It wasn't ideal to tuck my bloodied palms into my puffer jacket pockets because I'd be contaminating it, and as much as it would be odd to say, I rather loved the jacket and wouldn't want to have to dispose of it. Funny, I thought. That was my worry when I had just brutally murdered the love of my life. Funny how that was my worry now that Owen was dead. Or, more accura...

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Author bio

an artiscientific soul that is creative, philomathic, and delightfully at peace with her soul.